


I've Got Another Confession to Make

by BatmanWhoLaughss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Rebels, Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Kanan (Comics), Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Kanan Jarrus, Hurt/Comfort, Kanan Jarrus Needs a Hug, Order 66, Post-Star Wars: A New Dawn, Pre-Star Wars: Rebels, Spoilers, Whump, you can't convince me this isn't canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatmanWhoLaughss/pseuds/BatmanWhoLaughss
Summary: “Caleb.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.“What?” Her own voice wasn’t much louder.“My name. My real name. Caleb Dume.”10 years after the Jedi fell, Kanan Jarrus opens up.*post- A New Dawn, pre-Rebels. Contains spoilers for the Kanan comic series and minor New Dawn spoilers.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 20
Kudos: 149





	I've Got Another Confession to Make

**Author's Note:**

> I love Kanan and Hera a LOT okay and this fic needed to be written. It needed to. Feedback is appreciated :)

Kanan had been on edge the past couple weeks. Hera could tell, even as he tried to hide it.

They’d fallen into a steady rhythm in the two years they’d been travelling together, and even though he was the same cowboy she’d met on Gorse most of the time, she’d caught glimpses of the man underneath. He still played things close to the chest, but she’d been able to pry bits and pieces of his past out of him. She knew he’d worked odd jobs since the Empire took over, moving from planet to planet to stay ahead of anyone who might be looking. She knew he spent years trying to bury his head in the sand with Corellian brandy to help him, but she could tell there was more to the story that he let on.

Since Kanan had come on board the Ghost, he’d stopped getting into barroom brawls every chance he got, and he spent less time drinking. He seemed more relaxed around her, more willing to drop the tough guy act, the “sweethearts” and cheap lines. He talked to her about more than just the jobs they worked, and spending time with him was growing more and more fun.

They’d grown from casual partners to friends—close friends even, and Hera was beginning to hope that he would soon trust her enough to be honest with her about his past. She’d asked him about it, once or twice, but when he changed the subject almost immediately, she didn’t push him. She’d seen what he did on Gorse, when he saved her life, and she knew what that probably meant, but she was waiting for him to be ready to talk.

The past few weeks, though, had been different. Kanan seemed agitated, his words terse and businesslike. He talked less than usual, and Hera didn’t think she heard him laugh once. He seemed more trigger happy on the jobs they pulled, and got into more fights than he had in a long time. She didn’t push him; they knew enough about each other to give the other space. But she was worried, and she knew Kanan could tell.

Hera was sitting in the common room, the HoloNet playing in the background as she sipped some caf and scanned a datapad for jobs. They’d been parked on a moon in some Outer Rim system Kanan found, while they waited for their next gig. She heard the door open, and Kanan came in behind her, probably looking for some caf himself. He smiled at her softly, not wanting to disturb her while she was working. Whenever something was bothering him, he was careful not to take it out on her, and while she thought it was sweet, she worried about his tendency to self-destruct when he was upset.

She continued scanning the datapad as the HoloNet chimed, indicating the start of the next broadcast. Around Empire Day, there were usually a bunch of quick jobs that would enable them to make easy credits—something they desperately needed right now.

Kanan was busying himself in the kitchen just as the newsreel started.

“This Empire Day, we celebrate 10 wonderful years since the formation of the Galactic Empire. 10 years ago today, the Separatist crisis came to an end, and Emperor Palpatine brought peace and security to the galaxy.”

 _The usual rubbish,_ Hera thought. She didn’t notice Kanan’s body tense across the room.

“On this day 10 years ago, the treasonous Jedi Order attempted to betray the Republic. Thanks to the brave soldiers on the front line, the betrayal was foiled after an attempt on the Emperor’s life. The traitors of the Jedi Order were promptly executed, and we honor those warriors who did a great service to the Empire that day.”

Hera looked up in a panic, heart pounding once she realized what the broadcast was talking about. She hastened to turn it off, but as she looked up, she saw the damage was already done.

Kanan was rigid and silent, his back to her. She could see his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his spine straighter than she’d ever seen it. His shoulders were tense, and he didn’t move a muscle, standing in the middle of the now silent room. A lump lodged in her throat at what she’d inadvertently done, and she belatedly realized with a jolt that this might have been the explanation for his weird behavior the past few weeks. She’d known he was probably a Jedi, and she knew bits and pieces of what happened to them, but to hear it described so… coldly, was different.

“…Kanan?” You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. She got up and started to walk towards him, arm reached out as if to touch him. They’d never talked about this, not ever, and she felt cold all over as she waited for him to move. He was still unnaturally still a few moments later when she tried again. “Kanan, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“Don’t.” It was one word, but it stopped her in her tracks. She still couldn’t see his face, but there was a tremor in his voice that she’d _never_ heard before—not once in all the time she’d known him. “Just don’t.”

He stormed out of the room, body still wound taut as a bow, and Hera let him go. She slumped back into the chair, feeling cold all over. She ached to follow him, to make this right and fix the guilt now coursing through her, but she knew he wouldn’t let her. Not now. She never wanted to hurt him, especially not like this, but she didn’t know how to fix the damage she’d done.

She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She’d give him some time to cool off, she decided. Then she’d talk to him, apologize, and hope he could forgive her.

\---

Kanan grabbed the first alcoholic beverage he could find from his quarters before storming off the Ghost into the open air. He found a rock and perched himself on top of it, downing most of the (regretfully small) bottle in one go. His body was shaking all over, the words replaying on loop in his brain. _The traitors of the Jedi Order were promptly executed._ Such clinical words to describe what happened, the chaos that destroyed his life.

His breaths were coming in short gasps. He’d known this day was coming; he’d done his best to forget about it while he and Hera were going from job to job, but he wasn’t expecting it to sucker punch him like this. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, the memories bubbling unbidden to the surface of his mind. _Grey and Stiles, sharing a meiloorun with him. Grey and Stiles right afterwards, shooting Master Billaba in the back without a second’s hesitation. Running, always running, from his former friends._

He finished the bottle in one more swig, before getting up and _hurling_ it as far as he could with a yell. Falling to his knees, he rested his head in his hands as he heard it shatter in the distance. He could still hear the blaster bolts as the clones fired on him. He could feel the bitter cold from the nights he spent sleeping on the street. He hadn’t thought about this in so long, but ever since he let Hera in on his secret, these feelings had been closer to the surface than he wanted to believe.

Sadness, grief, and fear was burning through him like wildfire—feelings of 14 year old Caleb Dume finding their way back into Kanan Jarrus. It was like a floodgate had opened; he couldn’t stop the emotions suddenly ravaging him, no matter how hard he tried. He sighed, a long, shaky sigh that betrayed the lump in his throat.

He knew he should go back. He didn’t blame Hera, not really. She couldn’t have known what that broadcast would say—hell, she probably didn’t know what day it was with how busy she kept them. But he couldn’t face her. Not yet. She’d have questions that he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer, but when he thought about how guilty she was probably feeling, he sighed again.

Kanan trusted her, more than he’d ever trusted anyone, and it scared the living Force out of him. He’d been more honest with her than he had ever been, and he knew she deserved the truth, especially now. _Will she kick me out, once she finds out how much of a coward I am?_

He stood up on wobbly legs, reciting a meditation mantra he hadn’t used in a while to keep his emotions in check. He’d talk to Hera later, he surmised as he started walking back to the ship. He had a feeling he was going to need a bit more liquid courage, if he was really going to do this. _Am I really going to do this?_ Was he ready to finally let someone in, to _really_ let someone in, for the first time ever? Kanan didn’t know. But he _definitely_ needed a drink.

\---

Hera found him later that rotation, sitting at the small common room table with an empty bottle in front of him. His eyes were vacant, staring at the wall with an expression more painful than any other she’d seen on his face. It pulled at her heart, and she sat down next to him as he turned to focus on her. He murmured a soft “hey” in her direction, and she tried to gauge how drunk he was. He didn’t seem outwardly intoxicated, but the empty bottle in front of him was pretty telling.

“Kanan… I’m _so_ sorry.” Simple, to start. She’d spent most of the day in her quarters, listening to the tremor in his voice replay on a loop. She couldn’t stand that she was the one who put it there.

Kanan shook his head. “Wasn’t your fault.” There was a slight slurring to his words, but he seemed mostly sober by now. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have paid more attention. I didn’t think…” She trailed off as Kanan shook his head again, offering her a slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Its okay.” His voice was low.

They sat there for a long time, Hera studying Kanan’s haunted expression, her heart in her throat. She didn’t know how to continue, but she couldn’t leave him like this, not now. She reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, muscles stiff as a board under her fingers. His head dropped, hanging low as he sighed.

“Caleb.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“What?” Her own voice wasn’t much louder.

“My name. My _real_ name. Caleb Dume.”

He was a drifter type, she knew that, and even if he wasn’t a renegade Jedi, she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he changed his name over the years. She could see him shaking, and she knew what it must have cost him to reveal that. He was trusting _her,_ in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time, and she was shocked. “Kanan, you don’t have to-” 

Kanan lifted his head, his blue-green eyes boring into hers, more intense than she’d ever seen them. “I trust you, Hera. More than anyone.” His voice dropped to a whisper again. “And you deserve to know.”

Speechless, she moved closer to him, their shoulders touching. He looked out across the room, swallowing before continuing. “I was fourteen. I’d only been a Padawan for about six months, fighting on the front lines with my master.” Hera had been a girl when the Clone Wars were raging, and she’d seen the results of her father’s part in them. _Still, the front lines at fourteen…_ She dropped her hand from his shoulder and reached for his hand instead, squeezing it softly. 

“I took two blaster bolts during my first battle, but the clones saved me. I was so grateful, at the time.” His other hand unconsciously drifted to rest on his shoulder, where Hera suspected he still carried the scar. She ached for him, suddenly, and for everything he’d been through. “Few months later, we made camp between battles. Our commanders, Grey and Stiles, couple troopers, my master and me. The clones… my _friends,_ shared a meiloorun with us. I don’t ever remember laughing that much before or since.” She was starting to wonder where this was going, but she knew better than to push him. She waited, knowing he needed to get this out in his own time. A bomb could have gone off outside the _Ghost_ , and she wouldn’t have cared. 

“Then…” Kanan swallowed thickly, and she could see his eyes watering. His voice was starting to waver, but he pressed on. “The clones got some sort of message. We didn’t know what, but suddenly they were all pointing guns at us. No hesitation. There was… so much blaster fire…” His voice broke, and Hera squeezed his hand again as she saw a couple stray tears begin to fall. Kanan _never_ cried, not once in all the time she’d known him.

“My master gave me an order. Told me to run, and they… they…” He wiped at his eyes as some more tears escaped. “After she fell, they started coming for me. They didn’t stop. I was fighting for my life—I killed people that had been my friends three hours before.”

Hera was frozen, paralyzed with horror as she listened to him talk. This was so much worse than anything she could have imagined. She knew the Jedi were all but extinct, but she could never have guessed at how brutal it really was.

“I _ran,_ I left her to _die_ and they gunned her down. I was a kriffing coward, and I haven’t stopped running since then. Not ‘til I met you.”

\---

“Kanan…” It was the first word Hera had spoken since he started talking, and she squeezed Kanan’s hand again. “Caleb.” His whole body tensed, glancing up at her in surprise. She said it like she was testing the feel of it on her tongue, and he tried to ignore how _good_ his birth name sounded coming from her. He hadn’t heard that name spoken aloud since he was a kid. “Kanan, you were a _child._ If you didn’t run, you would have died, just like your master did.”

He laughed, a bitter, self-deprecating sound. He didn’t deserve Hera’s pity; she was better than him in every conceivable way. She had the strength to fight for what was right, instead of running away the first chance she got. It was what he admired most about her, and he knew she would probably think so much less of him when this was over. He wiped his eyes again, slightly embarrassed to be crying in front of Hera. He needed to get the rest of this out before he lost his nerve, and he itched for another bottle of brandy to wash it down with.

“Grey and Stiles didn’t stop hunting me. I lived out of dumpsters for a couple weeks before someone took pity on me and took me in. Then I betrayed him the first chance I got—stole his ship and ran. The clones caught up with me again—I had to eject myself through an airlock to get away.” He remembered the bitter cold, the struggle to stay alive as the pressure gripped him like a vice. It was the closest he’d come to dying. “Luckily my friend decided to come back for me, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Hera was tense beside him, and he could see her face frozen, her expression aghast. Her hand tightened its grip on his own. “An _airlock?_ ” He could hear her terror in her voice.

“Not as much fun as it sounds, believe me.” That was Kanan. Trying to make a joke about everything, even the worst moments of his life. “I ran again the first chance I got. Spent the rest of my teens and early twenties bouncing from planet to planet, working odd jobs and trying to drink, fight and fuck my way into an early grave.” He noticed Hera’s green skin flush slightly at the mention of the last one. “Then I met you.”

\---

“Oh, Kanan…” Hera didn’t know what to say. This was the most open, the most vulnerable she had ever seen him, and her heart _ached_ for everything he’d lost. “I’m so sorry.”

Kanan twined their fingers together where their hands were joined. Her other hand came up to rest on his upper back, rubbing his shoulders gently. She wanted to do something, _anything,_ but she didn’t know where to begin. She felt his lips curl into a soft smile though, so she kept going as he spoke again. 

“Ever since the Purge—that’s what they called it, I closed myself off from the Force, suppressing it at all costs. I had to survive, even though it felt like cutting off an arm. I lied, I stole, I cheated—everything the Jedi told us _never_ to do. I managed, just barely, on my own, but that day on Gorse, when I lifted that bridge… that was the most alive I felt in years.”

He finally sighed, taking a deep, long breath as another few tears leaked from his eyes. Hera kept up the soothing motion on his back, and she could feel the tension slowly draining out of him. She knew how risky it was for him to be this honest with her, how much it hurt him, and she was immensely grateful for it. She was grateful that he chose to trust her with his secrets, with his _heart_.

She didn’t want to push him further than he was willing to go, but she had a feeling there was one piece he was still holding back. She could tell he was scared to let someone in fully—hell, she would be too, in his position, but she wanted him to know he could trust her. “What was her name?” She felt him stiffen involuntarily again at the question, and she kept rubbing his back comfortingly. He felt his grip tighten on her hand.

“Depa Billaba. She was a Jedi Master. She trained me the best she could in the time we had, even though it was cut short. I’ve been alone ever since.”

Hera let go of his hand, turning Kanan’s face to look at her. His blue-green eyes were searching hers, and there was so much pain hidden there, more than she’d ever seen in the time she’d known him. He raised an eyebrow at her— _snarky to a fault, that was Kanan—_ as if waiting for her to say something. Instead she pulled him to her, wrapping him in a hug. She could tell he wasn’t expecting it from the way his body froze in surprise, but a moment later she felt him responding. He hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her in a vice-like grip and burying his head in the crook of her neck.

“You’re not alone anymore, Caleb Dume. You never have to be alone again.” She stroked the back of his head with one hand, as she felt him hold her tighter, if it were possible. “I’m glad you trusted me.”

She felt him tremble as she held him, shaking harder than ever-- as if, if she stopped holding him, he would crumple to the floor. Kanan had always been one of the strongest people she’d ever met, but now that she knew just how strong he’d had to be over the years, she admired him more. 

She was startled to feel her shoulder growing wet as his body started to heave with the force of his sobs, coming almost involuntarily. He was squeezing her so tightly now she was struggling to breathe, but she didn’t care. He’d shared more of himself with her than he ever had, and the least she could do was give him a shoulder to cry on. 

She pulled him impossibly closer as she kept stroking his back, his hair, any part of him she could reach. She murmured whatever assurances she could offer into his ear as she held him, this man who had wormed his way onto her ship and into her heart-- even if she wasn’t ready to tell him about the second one yet. 

His sobs grew more forceful; she suspected it had been a long time since Kanan had let his guard down like this-- always keeping his defenses up because he had to. He’d finally taken his walls down, for _her_ of all people, and she would die before letting him think that trust was misplaced. 

Hera lost track of how long they sat there, Kanan clinging to her like a lifeline, but eventually he stopped shaking and his cries tapered off. He let go of her slowly, rubbing at his eyes and avoiding her gaze. He was embarrassed, she could tell, and she could almost physically see the cowboy mask coming back up. Kanan liked to hide his emotions behind swagger and smirks, but she wasn’t going to let it happen this time. He was going to let someone take care of him for once, embarrassment be damned. 

She didn’t let him pull away fully, instead moving to guide his head onto her shoulder, wrapping her arm around him again. He looked at her quizzically through red-rimmed eyes as she started talking in a low voice. 

\---

She started talking, about everything and nothing, and Kanan stopped fighting her. He wanted to run, to hide and bury his emotions behind a wall like he always did, but he could never resist Hera’s voice. It was what drew him to her like a magnet two years ago on Gorse, and with his head on her shoulder like this, he felt it wrapping around him like a blanket. 

She talked about ship repairs and future jobs, about her childhood on Ryloth and her travels through the galaxy. She talked about the worlds she’d been to and the people she’d helped, about her father and his band of fighters, and Kanan felt his eyelids drooping of their own accord. He wanted to say something, but her voice was better than a lullaby. He wasn’t used to the feeling of safety, with the life he’d led, but he felt safer than he had in a long time, here with her. Safer even than with Master Billaba. 

\---

Hera felt Kanan’s breathing begin to even out as she talked, and she could feel his trembling slow until his body was eventually still. Eventually she looked over and saw that he was asleep, his eyes closed and his face looking more peaceful than she’d ever seen it. He’d intertwined their fingers again as she talked, and his grip was lax in hers. 

She didn’t dare move, even though she knew he would be sore when he woke up, if he didn’t sleep in his own bed rather than this cramped table. She shifted slightly, and heard him whimper softly, tightening his grip on her hand. Her heart clenched at the sound, and she moved to get comfortable; she was staying where she was until Kanan woke up. She told him he wasn’t alone, and she meant it; she didn’t intend to let him wake up by himself, after the day he’d had. 

She stretched out, her head leaning on Kanan’s as she began to drift off to sleep herself. She glanced one more time at Kanan’s face. He’d been on his own since he was a child, without anyone to protect him. She knew he could take care of himself, but she wanted him to know he didn’t have to-- not anymore. She would spend forever making Kanan Jarrus feel safe, if that’s what it took. _And that’s a damn promise._


End file.
